


When Benny Met Cassie

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Gen, Series: The Adventures of Armando Langostini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-27
Updated: 2000-01-27
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray sees Cass for the first time.





	When Benny Met Cassie

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Disclaimer: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio and Diefenbaker are property  
of Alliance

Disclaimer: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio and Diefenbaker are property of Alliance. All other characters are mine. No infringement of any copyrights is intended. This story is written for the private enjoyment of Due South fans and not for monetary profit. Permission to use this story for profit is not given.

**_ _ **

When Benny met Cassie

Rated PG for language.

Benton Fraser opened the door to his apartment and took a deep breath. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Chicago and his friend, Ray Vecchio would soon be picking him up to go grocery shopping. Ray insisted that this was a prime way to meet women but Fraser saw it simply for the utilitarian errand it was.

Benton's wolf, Diefenbaker, stopped in the hallway and sniffed. A familiar scent drifted to his nostrils and once he identified it, he charged down the stairway.

"Oooph!"

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

"Ow!"

'Whine.'

Benton dashed to the staircase but didn't see anything until he ran all the way down to the first floor landing. There Diefenbaker was half lying under the legs of a young lady who was sprawled on the floor.

"Miss, are you injured?" he asked anxiously.

"Only my pride," she responded trying to get up and not step on the four-footed furry creature who was tangled in her legs.

"Here, let me give you a hand," he offered then looked at his wolf and commanded, "Dief, stay."

He helped her stand and watched while she brushed herself off. She was dressed similarly to him in faded jeans, an azure blue turtleneck and a navy blue plaid flannel shirt. Her auburn hair was short in a wedge cut. Anger sparked in her bright green eyes as she looked at Diefenbaker.

"See if I ever feed you another bagel."

"Excuse me?" Benton asked.

She nodded towards the animal. "He joins me in the mornings for a bagel and green tea on my balcony."

"Balcony?"

"Okay, technically it's a fire escape. But I feel better if I call it a balcony."

"And you say he joins you?"

"Uh huh. Nearly every day. Don't know what we're gonna do when it gets too cold to be out at 4:00 A.M. though."

"Well, he is an arctic wolf. I don't think it could get too cold for him in Chicago."

"I was thinking about it being too cold for me," she said. "And he's a wolf? I just thought he was a Husky or some other sled dog mix."

Dief barked indignantly.

"Don't you go giving me any lip," she admonished. "I could have snapped my neck the way you tackled me."

He hung his head and whined softly.

"Are you sure you're not injured?" Fraser asked.

"Oh, I'm fine really. It was only a couple of steps."

"Seven to be precise, judging from the sound of your fall."

The woman moved all her joints and then stood silently for a moment as if assessing the situation.

"Nope, no worse than any hit I took playing football with my brothers," she reported as she bent over to pick up the small black leather portfolio she'd been carrying when she fell. A few photographs and sketches fell out.

"Are you an artist?" he asked.

"Trying to be. I graduated from the Chicago Art Institute. But right now I'm doing display work for one of the big department stores in town."

"Display work?"

"You know, dress the mannequins, make the display beds, put up the holiday decorations, set up the store window displays. That kind of thing."

"Of course," he said blankly.

She was fairly certain that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She knew that he had only recently moved into the building but now realized that he had probably never been in a city this large before.

"Anyway, I was just on my way to Skinner Park to do some sketching and maybe get some artistic inspiration," she said as she walked out the door.

A green 1971 Buick Riviera pulled up to the curb. The driver leaned over and called out the passenger window.

"Hey, Benny. You ready to go?"

"Just a moment, Ray." He turned to the woman. "If you find you do need medical attention, please let me know and I will cover the expenses. And I apologize for Diefenbaker's bad manners. He's usually much better behaved."

"Thanks, that's very sweet of you. But I'm sure I'll be fine." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek then ruffled Dief's fur.

Benton opened the car door and allowed the wolf to jump in the back seat. Once his pet was settled he climbed in the front seat and shut the door. Ray pulled away from the curb before he had a chance to fasten his seat belt.

"So who's the girl?" Ray asked.

"I have no idea."

"You have no idea? A woman kisses you on the sidewalk in broad daylight and you have no idea who she is? Why am I bothering to take you shopping with me to meet girls when there are women throwing themselves at you on the street? It's like you've got 'kiss me' tattooed on your forehead in some kind of ink that only women can read..." he ranted as they drove.

The woman stared at the car as it drove off and smiled to herself. Her favorite uncle had a 1967 Riviera when she was very young. Disregarding all laws and thoughts of safety, he had let her sit on his lap and help steer the car whenever he took her anywhere. The driver of this Riviera, however, looked nothing like her uncle. He was young. His hair was slicked back on top, contoured over the ears and feathered in the back. It was a look she was sure he was using to convey the message 'deadly and dangerous, but not afraid to cry'. And it almost worked. 

Since moving to Chicago to live with her brother several years ago, she really hadn't given much thought to the opposite sex. Her studies at the institute and taken priority at first. And now taking care of her brother, whose health was failing due to AIDS, was her main concern. Yet now, in one brief morning encounter, she had seen two men who piqued her curiosity.

When she got to the park, she pulled out her sketchpad and looked around for something inspiring. But the park was virtually empty of people and she didn't feel like drawing sketches of playground equipment. She closed her eyes deciding to draw the first image that popped into her mind. And it was thus that she began sketching the outline of a 1971 Buick Riviera.

It was nearly dinnertime when she returned to the apartment. There was no sign of the Mountie, the wolf or the Riviera. She sighed as she walked up the steps to the third floor apartment she shared with her brother. Unlocking the many deadbolts, she stepped inside and called out.

"Christopher, I'm home."

"About time. I was starting to wonder what happened to you," he said as he walked out of the bedroom to greet her. Seeing her limp, his concern grew exponentially to panic.

"What happened? Did you get mugged?"

"Yeah, by a wolf."

"In Chicago?" he asked disbelieving.

"Yeah, remember me telling you about that dog that shows up on the fire escape some mornings? Well, I met his owner today."

"The Mountie?" Christopher had seen the man and dog going to work together in the mornings.

"Yep. Come to find out, he's not a dog at all; he's a wolf."

"And he attacked you? Have you called Animal Control?"

"No, he didn't attack me. We just got tangled up going down the stairs. I thought I was okay at first but now I think I might have pulled or twisted something."

"You'd better get that checked out, Cass."

"I'm sure it's not that serious. Just a few bumps and bruises. Good God, it's no worse than anything I ever got roughhousing with you, Curtis and Cameron. After supper I'll take a long hot bath with salts and I'm sure I'll feel much better in the morning."

"I'd still feel better if you'd have it checked out. After all, there are plenty of hospitals just on the other side of the expressway."

"Damnit Christopher! I know exactly how many hospitals there are. And God knows how much time I've spent in them with you. I don't need to see a doctor."

She threw her portfolio across the room as she walked past her brother to sit on the fire escape. Christopher didn't know what was really bothering her but he knew not to follow her when she was in this kind of mood.

Sleep eluded Cass that night. Every time she dozed off she had the same dream. A wolf stood in front of her, teeth bared and growling low in his throat. She tried to walk forward but the wolf would lunge at her and she'd wake up. After having the same nightmare for the sixth time, Cass decided to go sit on the fire escape. She sat up in her bed and felt her head pounding in a manner she'd never experienced before. She moaned to herself and blindly groped her way to the fire escape knowing she'd never get back to sleep like this.

She sat for a while listening to the sounds of an early Chicago Sunday morning. There wasn't much noise, just the occasional vehicle going by. Not even the noise of violence that she was used to hearing disturbed the air. She didn't know exactly what time it was but she knew it must be what she'd come to term the dead hours of the night; too late for the weirdo's and too early for the normal folk.

She heard a sound and saw a wolf in front of her. She wondered if she'd fallen asleep again but then realized that she knew the friendly creature in front of her. It was Diefenbaker. He whined and nudged at her hand with his nose.

"Sorry boy. No bagels today."

The sounds of her own voice reverberated painfully in her head, as did his bark as he trotted away leaving her to hold her head in her hands. Minutes later she heard another sound, this one definitely not the lupine bagel beggar she had come to expect. This was the sound of two legs in boots leaping onto her balcony.

"May I help you miss?" the voice asked.

"Only if you're willing to shoot me and put me out of my misery."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, without a valid U.S. license, I'm not permitted to carry a loaded firearm."

 

"Yeah, then never mind."

"You know I realized much too late that I didn't introduce myself this morning. I'm Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian..."

"Mounted Police. Yeah, I know who you are. I think everyone in the building knows who you are. I'm Cass Lindsey. Pardon me for not shaking your hand but I'm afraid if I let go of my head, it'll explode."

"I find that highly unlikely but I'm sure you already know that. Perhaps we should get you some medical assistance."

"Okay, I give up. I'll see a doctor." Cass tried to stand up but found that the pain in her head made her very unsteady on her feat. Fraser reached out and grabbed her shoulder to make sure she stayed upright. 

"Let's get you inside and then we can tell your husband what's going on," he suggested.

"I don't have a husband."

"Then the man that you live with?"

"He's my older brother. And he's at work."

 

"Oh, well." He helped her through the window and into the apartment. When she began to fall again, he caught her and picked her up, as though she were a rag doll.

The sight of a man in jeans, boots and a flannel shirt carrying a barefoot young woman in shorts and a T-shirt immediately got the attention of the admitting staff at University Hospital. Fraser was directed to an examination room where he gently deposited the semi-conscious woman and then tried to answer the questions that came at him from all directions. He realized he had only limited information to give them and lacked knowledge of some of the most basic facts about his neighbor beyond her name. 

Stepping aside to an empty corner of the room, he heard her voice complaining about the treatment she was being subjected to. 

"I'm not an addict. I'm not an alcoholic. I just woke up with a blinding headache. Now give me something stronger than I can get at the drugstore and I'll get out of your hair."

Fraser smiled. She obviously didn't like being fussed over. He knew the feeling. He'd suspected she was a very self-reliant person when he'd met her this morning. A nurse looked up and saw him grinning. She walked over to him to ask for some more information.

"Mr. Lindsey?" she began.

"No, my name is Benton Fraser."

"Oh well, Mr. Fraser, can you tell me some more about your wife's activities today?"

The Mountie looked startled. "Oh, she's not my wife. She's a neighbor. You see, this morning, my wolf, Diefenbaker, knocked her down the stairs of our apartment building. I tried to persuade her to see a doctor then but she insisted that she was fine. It was only a short while ago that I found her sitting on her fire escape complaining of the headache."

"Do you know if she hit her head on anything when she fell?"

He thought hard for a moment, trying to recreate the sounds of her fall in his mind. "I'm not sure. I didn't actually see the accident. Diefenbaker charged out the door ahead of me and raced down the stairs before I could stop him. But from the sound of the incident, I believe she fell down seven steps. Now that's not really enough to put her into a forward tumble, but she could very well have struck her skull on the wall, the hand rail or even on the landing."

The nurse just stared at him for a moment and then returned to the table where Cass was still complaining. She spoke to the doctor in low tones for a moment and then he began barking out a new set of orders before speaking to Fraser.

"I've ordered some blood tests and a head CT for your friend. I suspect that she did more damage than she realized when she fell down the stairs. More than likely, we're dealing with a concussion here. If you don't mind, I'd like you to stay with her and keep her talking until we find out for sure what's going on. The folks from radiology ought to be down to get her shortly."

"I'll do that. Thank you doctor."

He watched the green clad man walk out of the room and then went over to Cass. Her eyes were tightly shut.

"You're still hurting."

"Brilliant deduction, Watson. What was your first clue?"

"My name is Benton Fraser," he said slowly as if to one of limited comprehension. "Do you know your name?"

"Yes, damnit. And I know yours too. I was making a sarcastic reference to Dr. Watson of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries."

"Oh, so sorry. The doctor would like me to keep you talking and awake until they find out exactly what's wrong with you."

"Peachy. Did they request anything in specific I'm supposed to tell you?"

"No, but you could just tell me about yourself. At this point I only know your name, that you live with your brother and that you're some sort of an artist."

"And I feed Diefenbaker bagels."

"Oh, yes, there is that. So are you a native to Chicago?"

"No, like you, I moved here from somewhere else."

She began to tell him the story of how she'd moved from northern Indiana to study art. She had just gotten to the part where she'd graduated from the art institute when a man from the Radiology department came to get her. As he wheeled the gurney away, she grabbed Fraser's hand. 

"Come with me?" she requested.

He looked at the radiology technician. The man nodded his head in ascent. The trip was not long and soon she was being positioned inside the large white drum of the scanner. She'd never been claustrophobic before but was starting to feel that way. The noise of the scanner bothered her the most. It sounded like she was in the middle of a jet engine. Finally the noise stopped and Cass opened her eyes again. 

"Am I finished?" she asked.

"Just a minute, darlin'," came the technician's reply through the intercom.

She lay there and counted down from 100 trying to relax her body and free her mind of the pain. But it didn't work. She heard the door open and the technician came in to get her.

"We got some really good pictures of your brain," he announced.

"Great. Can I have copies to take home with me? There are people who don't believe I have one."

He laughed and took her back to the ER. Fraser was in the waiting room when they returned. He held the door to the exam room open so Cass could be wheeled in easily. Just as he was leaving Cass felt a cramp spasm through her belly.

"Oh hell!" she said exasperated.

"What's wrong?"

He seemed like a nice guy but there were some things even nice guys didn't need to know about.

"Would you please go get a nurse, a female nurse?"

"Right away."

He returned seconds later with the woman who had thought they were married.

"Uh, would you mind excusing us for a moment?" she asked the Mountie.

He walked out of the room and when she saw that he was gone she looked at the nurse.

"As if there weren't enough drama in my life tonight. I think I am about to start my period."

"Do you normally get headaches at this time of the month?"

"Never had one like this. Just the usual, take two aspirin and call me in the morning headaches."

The nurse busied herself getting into a cabinet and pulled out a small plastic wrapped package, handing it to Cass. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I've been doing this for almost twenty years. I think I know how they work."

"I was thinking more along the lines of help getting up."

"Oh, yeah, that would probably be a good idea."

When they were finished, the nurse left and Fraser returned.

"So, what do I call you?" Cass asked.

"Call me?"

"Yes, as in your name. Do I call you Benton?"

"Oh, that would be fine."

"I didn't ask you what was fine. I asked what you wanted to be called. You see, my full name is Cassandra, but I never go by that. Everyone, other than my family, calls me Cass. So, do you prefer to be called Benton? Or is there some other name you like?"

"You know, I never really thought much about it. My father always called me Benton..."

Their conversation was interrupted by a lab technician.

"Sorry to bother but the doctor wants one more blood test run."

"Great, it's not enough that I'm in pain but now he wants to turn me into a human pin cushion."

"You know how they are. They have to check out every possibility."

Cass endured the needle stick and then picked up her conversation with the Mountie.

"So your dad called you Benton. How about your mom?"

"Like you, my family mostly used my Christian name. Though most of my school friends called me Ben."

"Ben," she said neutrally. "You know, I have to say that I think Benton suits you better."

He smiled. "Then there's Ray. He tends to call me Benny or else he calls me by my last name which seems to be a very common thing in America. I wouldn't mind so much if he'd just pronounce it correctly."

"Benny?" She shook her head. "No, that doesn't work either. And who's Ray?"

"Oh he's my best friend here in Chicago. You might remember him. He's the one who picked me up yesterday morning."

"The guy in the Buick?" She brightened noticeably at this piece of information.

"Yes. That would be the one."

"Wow, what a great car." She proceeded to tell Benton about her uncle and his Buick Riviera.

"Well, I can certainly see where you'd fixate on Ray's car."

"So what's he like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, back home, the guys were really into their cars. I kinda developed a theory that you could tell a lot about a guy by the kind of car he obsesses over. Now anyone in this day and age who drives a mint condition 1971 Buick Riviera obviously does so by choice. So it's apparent that this is a car he really likes."

"Oh yes, he's very attached to his car."

"So tell me about him and I'll see if it fits the description I've built in my head."

"His name's Ray Vecchio. He's a detective with the Chicago Police Department."

"A cop and a Mountie. That makes sense. So how'd you meet?"

Fraser told her the story of how his father had been killed and how he'd come to Chicago to work at the Canadian Consulate. She smiled at her description of Ray in a holding cell trying to make a deal with someone from Internal Affairs.

"So, he was trying to entrap Ray into making an illegal entrapment."

"Yes, I believe that was his description of the scenario."

He continued to tell her about Ray and his family and how they'd been very kind to him knowing that he no longer had any family living.

"You know, there are times when I get really frustrated with my family. But I can't imagine what it would be like if they weren't around. It must be really tough for you."

"It's not so bad but some times are worse than others. My mother died when I was very young and my father was gone much of the time so I've learned to live on my own."

"No mom and virtually no dad? Doesn't Canada have any sort of Child Protective Services for abandoned children?"

"Oh, I wasn't abandoned. I was raised by my paternal grandparents."

"And now, Ray's family seems to have adopted you?"

"Well, I suppose you could say that."

"You're very blessed to have so many families."

Whatever reply Benton might have made was cut off by the doctor entering the exam room.

"Okay, Miss Lindsey. I'd like to ask you a few questions and then we'll get you medicated."

"Shoot."

"When you first woke up and were cognizant of the headache, was your vision impaired?"

"Uh, it was dark. How would I know?"

"There was absolutely no light coming in, say from a window or sky light?"

"You know, I do remember looking out the window and the light made my head hurt even worse. You know, kinda like a hangover."

"I suspected as much. Well, here's what we know. The CT scan showed no signs of any major head trauma. Your blood sugar level is abnormally low and your FSH levels are off the map. I believe the headache is mostly a migraine related to your menstrual cycle. But I also believe it has been exacerbated by your fall today as well as your blood sugar."

"Okay so what's that mean in English?"

"It means we're going to give you something for the pain and I'm going to write you a prescription for something for future migraines. What have you eaten today and when did you eat it?"

"Well I had a bagel with cream cheese and bacon for breakfast along with a glass of apple juice. And I grabbed an apple for lunch."

"Nothing since then?"

"No. I didn't feel like eating supper."

He looked at her thin body and asked, "Miss Lindsey, have you ever been treated for an eating disorder?"

"No," she replied indignantly. "I hardly feel the need to starve myself to meet some arbitrary standard of beauty."

"I'm not talking about arbitrary standards of beauty. I'm talking about the fact that if this is representative of what you normally eat, perhaps you should be talking to a nutritionist. By depriving yourself of necessary carbohydrates, you impair not only your brain function but tax your liver as well."

"This is not representative of the way I normally eat. I take care of my older brother who has AIDS and I do the cooking for both of us. I'm well versed in the necessity of a balanced diet and I assure you that most days, I do eat three square meals. Today was just an anomaly."

"Well, I'd suggest you talk to your doctor about running a series of glucose tests to see if you're normally hypoglycemic or if this is just a one time thing."

"Yes sir," she said penitently.

The doctor turned and spoke quietly with Fraser. "The nurse will be coming in shortly to give her something for the pain. It's likely to make her pretty groggy. Is there someone at home who can keep an eye on her?"

 
    
    
    "She lives with her brother. When I found her on the fire
    escape she said he was at work so I don't know if he would be available
    or not. But if she needs to be watched, I'd be happy to keep an eye on
    her."

The doctor smiled at him. "You know, just when I was beginning to believe there were no good neighbors left in this world, you've restored my faith. Yes, I'd like someone to watch her and make sure she doesn't hurt herself accidentally while she under the influence of the medicine."

He turned back to look at Cass. "Miss Lindsey, the nurse will be in with your medicine and your discharge orders."

"Thanks doc," she said and watched him leave the room.

Fraser returned to her side.

"So what was that all about?" she asked suspiciously.

"The doctor was just verifying your living arrangements. I believe he said the medicine might sedate you and he wanted to make sure that there would be someone to stay with you."

"Oh jeez, Christopher's just gonna have a field day with this."

"Do you think he'll resent your infirmity?"

"No, I think he'll feel it's payback time for the way I watch over him like a mother hen." She sighed heavily. "Oh well, they say what goes around, comes around. I guess I deserve whatever I've got coming to me."

Fraser could tell she was not relishing the thought of her brother's treatment. 

"If you'd like, you could stay at my apartment until the medicine wears off."

She looked at him incredulously. "You'd really let me stay? You don't even know me."

"Actually, after tonight, I feel like I **do** know you. And Diefenbaker obviously thinks highly of you."

"Diefenbaker thinks highly of my breakfasts," she said with a laugh. "Ow, that hurt. But if you'd really be willing to spare me the Florence Nightingale treatment from Christopher, I'd be grateful to you for as long as I live."

"Then we'll do that."

 

Monday morning, Ray Vecchio pulled up in front of Fraser's apartment building as he usually did to give the Mountie a ride to work. Ben and Cass walked out together.

"Thanks again, Benton, for everything. It's good to know I've got a neighbor I can count on."

"You're welcome, Cass."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek lingeringly before she walked to her bus stop. Fraser got in the car with Ray. The Buick pulled away smoothly but quickly from the curb.

"Benny, what's with the dark circles under your eyes? Did you stay up all weekend looking for the northern lights?"

"Well, actually, I was up with Cass most of Saturday night and a good portion of Sunday..." he began.

"Cass?" he asked. "Is that the girl you walked out with this morning?"

"Yes, Ray."

"That's the same girl that was kissing you when we went to Pettit's Saturday morning," he observed.

"Yes, Ray."

"So Saturday morning you don't know her from Lady Godiva and now you're up all night with her? Benny, you sly dog. I never would have figured you for the type."

Fraser let out a long-suffering sigh, knowing that his friend had misconstrued what happened and knowing he would have to explain.

"It all started when Diefenbaker found her on the fire escape..."

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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